One Shot
by Mediancat
Summary: Buffy crossover AU. Riley comes to LA to chat with Angel about Buffy but something goes horribly wrong, and now, as Buffy tries to find Angel, Giles and Wesley are trying to find her . . .


Author's Note: This is a story I had long thought lost, but which a friend of mine was nice enough to find for me.

This AU takes place after _Restless_ but before_ To Shanshu in LA._

Also: Buffy is not portrayed in the best of lights -- but this is not Buffy-bashing. I don't do that. Towards the end of _Buffy_'s fourth season -- especially given Buffy's behavior in the two late-season crossover episodes with _Angel_ -- I thought Buffy was getting somewhat more reckless and out of control.

This is not a path the show's writers chose to follow. But I think you can see it in the relevant episodes.

Disclaimer: Joss owns all. I own nought.

X X X X X

Riley Finn surprised Angel in his bedroom one night. The former soldier was holding one of those taser rifles Buffy had told him about.

Angel said, "Riley, what are you doing here?"

The normally calm and collected Riley Finn came across the room and stopped about ten feet away. Then he pulled out a cross as well, pinning it onto his shoulder. At this distance it couldn't affect Angel, but it made it difficult to get close.

The rifle, of course, also made it difficult. A couple of shots from that thing and he'd be down for the count.

"What the hell are you doing?" Angel said.

"Making a point," Riley said. "Look. I know you and Buffy parted on good  
terms but I'm not quite sure that's enough."

"I'm still fairly sure she doesn't want me dead," Angel said, stepping forward.

Riley pulled the trigger on the rifle, once, and fired it. Angel, of course,  
went down like he'd been blackjacked. Then Riley went over to Angel's twitching  
body. "I'm not going to kill you," he said quietly. "Buffy wouldn't  
stand for that. I came here to talk with you. To ask you to stay away from her in the future. You've caused her more pain than  
you've brought her joy."

Angel slowly started to stand up, and Riley didn't stop him.

Then they were both startled to hear a voice from behind Riley. "Oh my God, what –" Riley  
turned his head and saw a tall, dark-haired woman on the stairway. She held a  
crossbow. "What the hell are you doing!"

And then Riley made his mistake. He spun around, still holding the rifle in a  
firing grip.

X X X X X

The intruder standing over Angel's body turned towards her holding a gun.

Not a chance in hell. Praying for a lucky shot, Cordelia let the crossbow bolt  
fly.

It struck the intruder – Cordelia didn't care where – and he went down. Then  
Cordelia ran over to Angel. "Are you okay?"

Shakily, Angel said, "Yeah, I think so. What happened to Riley?"

Riley? That had been Buffy's Riley? "I don't know –"

It was only then that Cordelia noticed the blood pooling beneath his body.  
Angel ran over to him and grabbed his wrist. Then he looked at the location of  
the wound and paled, ripping open the shirt around the protruding bolt.

"Should I call 911?" Cordelia said, panicking.

"Don't bother," Angel said grimly. "It was a clean shot – right through the  
heart. He's dead."

X X X X X

Giles, numb, spoke into the phone. "Wesley, are you certain? No, of course  
you're certain. Thank you for calling me first."

Then he hung up.

Dear god.

Riley was dead.

And of all people, Cordelia had killed him.

He had to find Buffy. Quickly he dialed the phone.

She wasn't at the first place he tried.

Willow had no idea where she was. Neither did Xander. Finally inspiration struck  
and he called Joyce.

"Yes, she was just here," she said. "She needed to borrow money – something  
about getting to Los Angeles as fast as possible. Why?"

"How is she getting there?"

"By bus – there's one leaving the terminal in fifteen minutes."

"Meet me down there. We have to stop her from leaving."

Puzzled, Joyce said, "Why? What's the problem?"

"No time. I'll explain when we get there." And then he hung up.

Fourteen minutes later, Giles pulled into the parking lot of the bus terminal.  
Joyce Summers was standing impatiently by her SUV. "Okay, now, what's the  
problem?" She asked.

"Riley's dead."

"Oh g—"

"And he died in LA – from a crossbow bolt to the chest – in Angel's apartment.  
Now we really must try to stop Buffy from boarding that bus." And he began to  
run into the terminal.

A hard grip on his arm stopped him short. "Why should I want to stop her, then?"

"Because," Giles said exasperatedly, "Angel didn't kill him. But if I know Buffy  
she'll assume he did."

Joyce nodded her head. "Right." Then she looked at her watch. "The bus leaves  
now."

They ran through the building – Giles actually jumping over the turnstiles while  
Joyce explained that "their daughter" had forgotten her medication – only to  
discover no bus to LA sitting there, or even one pulling away. When he got back  
to the ticket counter Joyce said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Giles. It left five minutes  
ago."

"Of course it did." It was all Giles could do to keep from slamming his fists  
into the wall in frustration.

"It's okay," Joyce said. "Let's just see if we can beat her there. And for god's  
sake let's use my cell phone to call in advance. The last thing we want is to  
have them not be ready for what's coming."

Giles could do little but agree.

X X X X X

"Alright," Buffy said as she kicked in the front door of Angel's office, "Where  
is he?"

Wesley was sitting behind the desk fielding a phone call. "I'll have to get back  
to you," he said and hung up. Then he stood and walked over towards the office  
front. "Where is who?" he asked.

"Don't play games with me, Wesley. I'm not in the mood for twenty questions.  
Where is that murderous ex-boyfriend of mine? Boy, just when you think you can  
trust someone –"

"Not here."

"I said, don't mess with me."

"And I said, not here," Wesley said as he stood up. Wasting no  
time, Buffy picked him up and flattened him against the wall. "Taking your cues  
from Faith these days, are you?"

"What?" Buffy demanded.

"If you'll let me down, I'll show you." Wordlessly, Buffy let go. Wesley took a  
few deep breaths and slowly took off his suit jacket, then his shirt.

Even as angry as she was, Buffy winced when she saw the bruises and healing cuts crisscrossing  
Wesley's chest. "What –"

"Faith spent hours working me over. It still hurts when I breathe too deeply, so  
I would appreciate it if from here on you would refrain from battering me around  
the office. "

"I'm sorry, Wesley. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Apology accepted," Wesley said. "Now believe me when I say he's not here."

"I don't," Buffy answered firmly.

An annoyed tone in his voice, Wesley said "Well, you're going to have to get  
past me to look," and walked over in front of Buffy's path downstairs.

Without hesitation, Buffy walked over and threw a punch at his face. Wesley  
flinched, but didn't dodge the blow, which stopped less than inch from his nose.  
"You're not the same Wesley I knew, are you?" Buffy said.

"No."

At which point Buffy gently picked Wesley up, put him to one side, and walked  
downstairs into Angel's apartment. Five minutes later she came storming back  
upstairs. "He's not here," she said grumpily. "And half the room is sealed off  
with police tape."

"Did you think I was lying?"

"Of course I thought you were lying."

And Wesley smiled. "Exactly. Now if you'll be so kind as to show yourself out, I  
have work to do." And he sat down – painfully – and reached for the phone. Buffy  
glared at him for a few minutes. Wesley sighed and said, "Miss Summers, I have  
tolerated your behavior because of our past association and the present circumstances. I truly am quite sorry about the death of your gentleman friend.  
But if you do not leave this office within five minutes I will call the police  
and have you arrested. Do I make myself clear?"

Buffy looked at him again. "You're really not the same Wesley I know."

"Thank you for the compliment. Now if you'll excuse me –"

What choice did Buffy have? She left.

X X X X X

"You have been involved in or connected to more deaths –" Detective Kate Lockley  
began.

"I know," Angel answered. "I wish it didn't have to be this way." He sat down  
wearily on the other side of Kate's desk.

"I mean, it's something of an incredible story. And I know what you are so I  
know what incredible really means. Your ex – was that the girl who was here when  
Faith Lehane turned herself in?" Angel nodded. "Okay. Heard you guys had a nasty  
fight on the way out of the station. Sorry about that, by the way."

"We sort of made up later."

"Really?" Kate said, eyebrows raised.

"Not that way. I went to Sunnydale and we both apologized."

"Okay. Does she know about your . . . . dark side?"

"A bit too intimately." He paused. "By the way, thanks for not pressing Cordelia  
right now."

"I've been a cop ten years, Angel; I studied criminal psychology heavily in  
college. I'm not saying I can't be fooled but it's rare. And if Cordelia Chase  
meant to kill Riley Finn I'm a lugnut. Keeping her here would have done no good  
at all."

"Thanks –"

Kate continued as though she hadn't heard. "Doesn't mean there won't be charges  
eventually, although at this point I doubt it. She confessed to firing the shot,  
from all we can determine Finn WAS holding the rifle on you – a rifle he stole  
from his last post, by the way. Riley Finn was considered a deserter from the  
army, did you know that?"

"Yeah. Found it out when I visited Sunnydale. I may as well tell you, he and I  
slugged it out when I visited. Never really made our peace."

"Thanks for the info. Anyway, the taser rifle looks like a bullet weapon from a  
distance, you have burn marks on your chest from the electrical charge, and all  
the other physical evidence points to her as well, and points to self-defense."

"This is good to know. Thanks for all the assistance, Kate."

"The only thing you have to thank me for is that it's me did the questioning and  
not someone who doesn't at least have some idea of your past history. I didn't  
do this as a favor for you."

Angel smiled. "I know. That's part of what makes you a good cop."

Kate frowned. "Are you trying to kiss up to me?"

"Not my style."

"Yeah," Kate sighed, "I've noticed. Now look. Like I said, your story seems to  
check out but we still have some work to do."

"Is this where you tell me not to leave town?"

Kate snorted. "Too cliché."

Angel stood up. "One more thing – could I ask you a favor?"

"Of course you can ask."

"Meaning you might not grant it."

"Meaning get on with it. This isn't TV where I only work one case at a time. I  
have a shitload of other things I could be doing right about now."

"If my ex shows, tell her you haven't seen me."

"The blonde?"

"Yeah. She's pissed at me. Thinks I killed Riley. We're trying to slow her down  
long enough for someone to talk some sense into her."

"Will do." Angel turned to leave. "By the way –" Kate added.

"Yes?"

"Don't leave town."

Angel smiled briefly as he left.

Joyce Summers was briefly surprised when she saw the apartment building – nicer  
than she expected. But now wasn't the time. She walked inside and upstairs and  
knocked on the door. After a few seconds it unlatched and swung open . . . but  
on the inside no one had opened it. Weird.

Going inside, she called out, "Cordelia?" No one answered. "Cordelia?" She said,  
a bit louder.

Still nothing. Joyce moved around the apartment, not trying to be quiet because  
she didn't want to surprise Cordelia. She repressed a horrid thought about  
crossbows. Not in the front . . . so time to look towards the back.

And there she was in the bedroom, lying on the bed, hunched under the covers and  
staring blankly at the ceiling even though it was May and around 80 degrees.  
"Cordelia?" Joyce said softly.

"Mrs. Summers," Cordelia said blankly, not otherwise moving. "What are you doing  
here?"

"Comforting you," Joyce said. "Since no one else around here seems to care – I  
mean, they left you alone!"

"Angel, Wesley – not very good at comforting. And I'm not alone. I have Dennis."

"Dennis?"

"My personal friendly ghost." As if to confirm this a soda can on the nightstand  
moved a couple of inches to one side and then the other.

"Hello, Dennis," Joyce said, and the atmosphere in the room grew marginally  
cheerier. "But still – there are some things a ghost can't do." And she reached  
towards Cordelia.

"Don't touch me," the girl said, sitting up in the bed.

"Why not?" Joyce asked.

"I don't deserve it. I killed someone. I killed Buffy's boyfriend." Cordelia  
sounded as drained as Joyce had ever heard her.

"By accident, Cordelia, by accident."

"No. He was threatening Angel – and I shot him. I was trying to hurt him." She  
sounded anguished. How dare Angel and that other man, Wesley, have left her  
alone.

"Yes. Yes you were. But –"

"One kill leads to another. Didn't you know that?"

Momentarily nonplussed, Joyce said, "Cordelia, I hardly think –"

Again interrupting Joyce, Cordelia said, "Did you learn NOTHING from Faith? I  
mean, we know how it works. Kill one person, the next becomes easier. And the  
next, and the next, until you betray your friends and end up in LA begging a big  
broody vampire to kill you! I don't want that to happen to me."

There was nothing Joyce could say.

But this time Cordelia didn't refuse the hug.

Buffy walked into the police station and into the main office area before anyone  
could stop her. She said, loudly, "I'd like to talk to whoever it is  
investigating the murder of Riley Finn."

A tall redhead with a mustache said, "That'd be Detective Lockley. But –"

"Thanks. Where can I find her?"

Evidently feeling it was easier to placate the crazy woman than get rid of her,  
the man said, "Back that way," while pointing towards the offices. Buffy nodded  
a brief thanks.

She knocked on the door while opening it. A blonde woman of around thirty  
looked up at her and frowned. "Yes?" the woman asked.

"Are you Detective Lockley?" Buffy demanded.

"The same. Who are you and why do you think you have the right to come into my  
office without asking?"

"My name's Buffy Summers. I'm the girlfriend of Riley Finn, and I'd like to know  
what you're doing to find the man who killed him."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss, Miss Summers." The Detective made it sound  
like Buffy had just misplaced a book. "But we already know who killed him. And  
it wasn't a MAN at all."

Something . . . "Hold it. You know Angel isn't a man?" Suspiciously.

Blinking, Lockley said, "Well, yes. But that's not what I was talking about . .  
. ."

"Good. Then I suggest a nice east-facing cell. One with a REALLY nice window  
view." Buffy unconsciously echoed the detective's words of a month or so back.

"Oh, really?" Lockley said acidly. "And how would you suggest I explain the pile  
of ashes that used to be a prisoner?

"Spontaneous combustion. Angry hit man with flamethrower next cell over. What  
the hell do I care? He killed my boyfriend, and I want him dead."

To Buffy's surprise, the detective laughed. "You've got guts."

"How so?" Buffy was confused.

"Not many people would have the balls to charge into a police station and  
ANNOUNCE their intention to kill someone."

"It's not murder if they're already dead." Buffy spat out the words.

"I know Angel. Morally it would still be murder." Lockley seemed a little  
ticked. "And you're wrong anyway."

"Really." It was not a question.

"Yes. Angel didn't murder Riley Finn."

Buffy echoed, "Really."

"Really. As far as the police are concerned he was shot in self-defense."

Interrupting, Buffy said, "He told you that and you believed him? God. Well, if  
you're not going to help me I guess I'll have to find him myself." Buffy stormed  
from the office and slammed the door.

And so she didn't hear the rest of Kate's description: " . . . by Cordelia  
Chase."

X X X X X

The phone rang at Angel Investigations.

"Hello?" Wesley said. "No, detective, Angel isn't here right now, would you like  
me to take a message? . . . right then. Thank you for the call." He hung up the  
phone and turned to the office's other inhabitant. "That was a friend of ours in  
the Los Angeles Police Department, Detective Lockley by name. She says that  
Buffy was there not twenty minutes ago, angrily demanding that they pick up  
Angel and, well, 'stick him where the sun shines really brightly' was the phrase  
the detective used."

Rupert Giles stood up. "So Detective Lockley is . . . aware of Angel's true  
nature?"

"Fully. In any event, she gave me to understand that Buffy was still in rather a  
towering fury."

"I can hardly blame her, given the circumstances of Riley's death." Giles  
shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

"You did believe my account, didn't you?" Wesley asked. The elevator began  
moving upwards.

"Yes. Not that I think it's impossible for Angel to take a human life – but he  
wouldn't do by shooting them with a crossbow, he'd do it with his bare hands."

The elevator door opened. "It's nice to see I still inspire such confidence."

Giles turned to look at the emerging Angel. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"Not at all. It's just embarrassing to think of myself as that transparent." He  
looked around the office, most pointedly at the front door. "That Buffy's work?"

Wesley nodded. "Indeed. You may have also noticed her attempts to redecorate  
your apartment. I felt it would be intruding to clean up. In addition –" and he  
unbuttoned his shirt, showing fresh bandages, as well as healing bruises.

Giles said, "You mean Buffy . . . .?"

Quickly catching on to Giles' misapprehensions, Wesley hastened to say, "Oh,  
good heavens, no. These wounds happened when Faith tortured me. But in her enthusiasm  
to find Angel's whereabouts she did have occasion to smash me against the office wall.  
That aggravated the injuries."

"I see. Still, it worries me that Buffy would do this –"

Wesley said, "Hasn't she been known to harm humans before? This Willy the Snitch  
character, I was told –"

"Willy is a known consorter with the forces of darkness," Giles snapped. "You  
are an ex-Watcher long since firmly established on the side of good. Hardly the  
same thing." Giles sighed. "The reason I'm worried is that Buffy has been acting  
a bit . . . not herself lately."

"You've noticed that too?" Angel asked. "When she came up here – to protect me  
from Faith, supposedly – she was very harsh. Not just to Faith, but to me as  
well. I think she honestly was going to kill Faith if I hadn't intervened."

Quietly, Wesley said, "It's not as though she didn't have cause."

"Cause for the desire, yes," Angel said. "Cause to actually do it? I'm not so  
sure. The Buffy I know wasn't a murderer."

"What about the events of Graduation?" Wesley asked. "Buffy was quite ready to  
kill Faith then."

"For a direct cause. Not simply for revenge," Giles answered. "And now her  
belief – her mistaken belief – that Angel killed Riley has sent her shooting up here to  
kill him in turn. Not to find answers – but to kill him. Flat out. I have no  
idea why her behavior has changed – but I do know it needs to be stopped.  
Before –"

Angel said, "Before she winds up like Faith."

X X X X X

Buffy was getting more and more frustrated. Everywhere she turned she kept  
getting the runaround. Wesley evaded her questions and threatened to have her  
arrested, the detective kept not giving her straight answers . . . . and no one  
on the street seemed to know anything.

It was the disadvantage of not knowing the territory. LA really was Angel's  
city, and he knew it a lot better than she did.

And obviously he knew how to hide, because he was doing a bangup job of keeping  
out of Buffy's way.

It was so damned annoying that she found herself hoping that she'd run across a  
vampire attack, just so she could have something to hit. Something to kill. But  
so far, not a demon, not a vampire, nothing. Not even a mugger or other random  
human lowlife. And Buffy didn't get her jollies by pounding brick walls.

So where to go from here?

Well, pounding the streets wasn't doing her any damn good, that was sure.

And then the answer hit her.

Obviously.

She'd tried the office, she'd tried the police station . . . .

Time to try Cordy's.

Wesley started. "Surely you don't think Buffy's going to end up like Faith?"

"Not exactly like Faith, no," Giles said. "But given the way she's been giving  
in to her emotions, her impulses – "

"Faith's major flaw," Angel commented.

"Exactly," Giles said. "Especially the darker ones. Those of violence to Faith,  
nastiness to you, to me and Willow and Xander –"

"Really?"

"Yes, although as it turned out Spike had been manipulating us all," Giles  
added with a trace of embarrassment in his voice. "And we've since made up.  
Still –"

"Still." Angel's voice had some finality to it.

Wesley cleared his throat. "I feel I must remind you all that, though we have  
been as of now successful in avoiding the brunt of Buffy's wrath, it's not  
something we can evade forever. Unless, Angel, you were planning to hop a  
late-night flight to Kuala Lumpur?"

"No such plans," Angel admitted.

"Then what do we do?" Wesley asked both of them.

The necessity of planning was averted by an abrupt ring of the office phone.  
Angel reached it first. "Yes?" He made a shushing motion and Giles and Wesley  
quieted down. "I understand. We're on our way." He hung up. "That was Joyce  
Summers," the vampire began.

Jumping to the correct conclusion, Giles said, "Buffy's shown up at Cordelia's."

"Good guess."

"We aren't going anywhere," Wesley said. "Buffy still has plans to turn you into  
vacuum cleaner residue, remember? I have no intention of letting you anywhere  
near her apartment." He reached into a box and pulled out a crossbow.

"And were you planning to shoot Buffy with that?" Giles asked incredulously.

"Of course not," Wesley responded placidly. "But it may prove useful to appear  
that way. Right now she doesn't appear to be listening to sweet reason."

"Need I remind you," Giles said acidly, "That one of them going off accidentally  
is what started this situation?"

In silent response, Wesley fired the crossbow into the far wall, then swiftly  
reloaded and buried the second bolt in the middle of the first. "I'm not as  
incompetent as you seem to believe, Mr. Giles. So far you have treated me like  
an adult. A peer. Please do your best to keep it that way. Now Angel –"

But he'd vanished.

"Bloody hell," the ex-Watchers said in unison.

X X X X X

Joyce and Cordelia had been talking quietly for half an hour; Cordelia had  
seemed very grateful for someone to unburden herself to.

"But," she'd told Joyce firmly, "Don't go and blame Wesley and Angel. I've been  
numb ever since it happened. Angel helped me with the police. Can you believe  
me giving one-word answers? Me?"

"I don't think anyone's going to hold it against you, Cordelia," came Joyce's  
answer.

"I know they're not. But I expect better things from myself than grunts and  
groans. Has anyone told you I get visions?"

"Um . .. no."

"Well, I do. Not that I want them, but that's neither here nor there. The first  
time I got them I was in the middle of an audition. And even though my head felt  
like it was about to go nuclear I, by God, said all the lines of the ad. And now  
this happens and I go all monosyllabic."

"Given what happened . . . .'

"I'm trying not to have to deal with the fact that I killed someone right now,  
okay? Get with the program!"

"Um –" Joyce sounded a bit wounded.

"Sorry. But if I stop too much right now I'll drift right back into that same  
funk I was in when you found me. And I hate myself that way even more."

Joyce smiled. "I think I understand." There was a knock at the door. "You  
expecting anyone?"

"No." Joyce walked to the front door and looked through the peephole. Then she  
tiptoed back to the bedroom fast. "It's Buffy!"

"And she doesn't know you're here."

"Mr. Giles and I were chasing after her, it was hardly the time to give her an  
update on my plans –"

Cordelia grimaced. "Not being critical." Then she swung her legs over the side  
of the bed and stood up. "Look. You stay in here and call Angel. Hide in the closet  
if you have to. I'll –" She took a deep breath – "I'll deal with Buffy as best I can."

"Sure you're up to it?"

A hollow laugh. "I'm an actress. I have to be up to it." And as Joyce huddled  
against the wall and dialed Cordelia walked wearily to her front door. "Yes?"

"Cordy, it's Buffy. Open up."

"What – what do you want?"

"I'm looking for that murdering ex-boyfriend of mine." Around this time Cordy  
regretted telling Buffy to ever get in touch with her anger.

"I guessed as much. Come on in." Cordelia swung open the door and the Slayer  
walked in.

"Took you long enough." Buffy walked past Cordelia and began looking around the  
apartment.

"Hey! I don't recall offering you the grand tour. Not that I mind seeing you  
and all, but I'm really not up for company right now."

"Don't worry, I won't keep you," Buffy said. "I'm just looking for a killer."

Heavily, Cordelia said, "You don't need to look any further, Buffy. Your killer  
is here."

Obviously not noticing the tone in Cordelia's voice, Buffy said, "Good! I knew  
he couldn't hide long. Where is he? I know it's not the balcony . . . " Behind  
Buffy, Dennis had picked up a soda can and was getting ready to lob it at  
Buffy's skull.

"Dennis!" Cordelia hissed. "No! She's a friend. An insane one right now, but  
still –" A scream of alarm from the other room. Cordelia walked in and found  
Buffy looking in her closet –

at Joyce, of course.

"Alright," Buffy demanded, "would one of you mind explaining this?"

X X X X X

"How far away is Cordelia's apartment by car?"

Wesley said as they sprinted out the front door of the office building. "It  
could be anywhere from five minutes to three hours. This is Los Angeles, you know."

Giles repressed a sigh. "Assume normal traffic patterns."

Tossing his gear in the back, Wesley answered, "Fifteen minutes." Then he slid  
inside and started the car.

"And," Giles said as he got into the passenger seat, "How long will it take  
Angel?"

"Do you think I've timed him?"

Giles didn't bother to repress this sigh. "Estimate."

"If I would, I could," Wesley said, pulling out and merging into traffic. "I  
don't have a map of the system. It could take him ten minutes or half an hour. In any  
event, best that we make all possible speed." And saying that Wesley drove down the  
unfamiliar streets of LA like, if not a seasoned pro, at least someone who had  
some idea of where he was going and the best way to get there.

They passed a few minutes driving in silence. Then, rounding a corner, Wesley  
said, "What do you plan to do if we get there and Buffy and Angel are in a  
confrontation?"

"I intend to break it up," was Giles' answer.

"How?" Wesley said.

"If I have to, I'll get in between them."

"No . . . I'd prefer not. Imagine if either Buffy or Angel sent you headlong  
into a wall. I can scarcely imagine the guilt that would ensue from harming you."

"You can't get in between them," Giles replied as Wesley passed an SUV. "You  
would have even less authority than I do."

"Thus the crossbow," Wesley said.

Acidly, Giles said, "You are not taking that crossbow inside. I don't care how  
good a shot you are, I have no intention of letting you even pretend to shoot Buffy."

"I thought we'd discussed this." Wesley pulled up in front of an apartment block  
set back from the street. "I was given to understand that you were going to treat me  
as though I knew what I was doing." Unlocking the driver's door, Wesley began to get out  
of the car – only to be stopped by Giles' hand on his arm.

"It would be easier," Giles said, "For me to treat me as though you knew what  
you were doing if what you were doing didn't involve the crossbow. Buffy is –"

"Buffy," Wesley said firmly, "Is the villain here. You would do well to remember  
that. And if forced to make any kind of choice here I will choose the innocent."

"Angel is hardly an innocent. And Buffy, no matter how selfish she may have  
acted on occasion recently, is scarcely a villain."

Wesley pulled his arm free, but made no move to exit the automobile. "If she  
tries to kill Angel without cause, without listening, she's a villain. And in this  
instance Angel IS an innocent."

"Again, it's not like she doesn't have cause to be upset."

"The only person she has cause to be upset with is Mr. Finn. This sequence of  
events was his fault and his alone. That may not be something you or Buffy wishes to  
hear, but it is the truth." Wesley was more irritated than Giles had ever heard. Now  
if you're quite done, I'm going inside. And if you try to prevent me from taking  
the crossbow in rest assured you WILL regret it." Then Wesley reached into the back,  
retrieved the crossbow and a handful of bolts, got out of the car, and without  
another word began walking towards the apartment.

After a few seconds Giles followed him.

X X X X X

"Hi Buffy. Doesn't Cordelia have the most wonderful apartment you've ever seen?"  
Joyce said as she stepped out of the closet.

"Yes, she does," Buffy answered. "A great view, a great location and a mom in  
the bedroom closet. Does it come equipped with a Giles in the kitchen cabinets too?"

"I don't think I like your tone, Buffy," Joyce said with as much indignation as  
she could muster given the circumstances.

"I find you hiding in a closet in Los Angeles when you should be 75 miles away  
and you don't like my tone?"

"Well . . . no," Joyce said lamely.

"Buffy, please –" Cordelia began.

"So, I'll ask again," Buffy said, ignoring Cordelia. "What are you doing here?"

A voice from the door. "She's trying to stop you from doing something stupid."  
Buffy whirled.

"Angel," she spat. "I was wondering if you'd show. I can't believe you killed  
Riley. I mean, I knew you didn't like him but I never thought you'd kill him."

"Buffy," Angel said as gently as he could, "I didn't kill him."

"Please," Buffy said sarcastically. "You expect me to believe that?" She got in  
a fighting stance.

Angel simply said, "Yes." He hadn't moved since he'd entered Cordelia's  
apartment except to close the door. His hands were down by his sides. Meanwhile, Joyce had moved  
to stand close to her daughter. A soda can on the end table by the couch moved back and  
forth seemingly by itself.

"He was killed, in your apartment, by a thrust through the heart. Who the hell  
else could have done it? I mean, you and I both know you didn't have a woman down there."

"Buffy," Cordelia said, "Knock it off. Angel didn't kill Riley." She sighed.  
"Believe me, I know."

"I've heard that before, Cordy," Buffy said. "The cops called it self-defense. I  
don't believe them." By this point Joyce had given up trying to comfort Buffy or calm  
her down and had moved to lean against the wall.

"You're right not to." Everyone in the room looked at Cordelia like she'd just  
grown a second head. Even Dennis seemed vaguely unsettled. "What is it, people!" she  
demanded. "It's not technically self defense if you're trying to protect someone else."

"So Riley was threatening someone else and Angel shot him to protect that  
person?" Buffy's tone made it clear she wasn't buying Cordy's explanation.

"No! God, how stupid are you right now?"

Gritting her teeth, Buffy said, "Sorry if I don't have time to buy any long and  
complicated explanations there, Cordy, it's just I have this tendency to get a  
bit upset when my boyfriend gets murdered."

"I mean," Cordelia shouted back, "That Angel didn't kill Riley at all. I did."

X X X X X

Buffy's first reaction to Cordelia's reaction was, "Huh?"

"I said," Cordelia said, enunciating clearly, "I killed Riley. What's the  
matter, are you deaf?"

Buffy again said, "What the hell are you talking about? Angel killed Riley."

"No, he didn't. It's obvious being a Slayer doesn't add anything to your  
brainpower. GOD, thank you for being such a bitch about this. You know, I've  
been in a funk for the last day and a half ever since it happened and this little act  
of yours was JUST what I needed to pull myself out. Thanks." Angel and Joyce  
both shot Cordelia confused looks.

Quietly, Buffy said, "You did not kill Riley."

"Oh no?" Cordelia demanded. "Would you like a description of exactly how it  
happened? Here, Slayergirl, let me give you the details."

"Cordelia, I really don't think –" Angel began.

"Shut up," Buffy said. "I would love to hear this." The tone in Buffy's voice  
made it crystal that she thought Cordelia was running a scam to save Angel's hide.  
When Joyce looked like she was about to say something, Buffy glared and the older  
woman kept silent.

"You want? You got. I came into work yesterday morning and heard what sounded  
like an argument going on downstairs, in the apartment. I grabbed a crossbow and slowly  
started creeping down the stairs – you know, in case maybe I could do something  
Angel couldn't against whatever beast was attacking him, not likely, but you  
never know, right? Anyway, imagine my surprise when I peeked out and saw a man holding  
a rifle and Angel slowly getting up from the floor. So I yelled, 'What the hell have  
you done to him?' and he turned around and held the rifle on me." Cordelia's ranting  
had grown progressively softer over the course of her speech, and by now she was  
barely speaking above a whisper.

"And then what?" Buffy's voice was still and small as well.

"And then – and then I thought he was going to shoot me and hurt me the way he'd  
hurt Angel, so I fired the crossbow." She stopped and took a deep breath. "I was  
aiming for his legs, I swear, Buffy. I never meant to kill him."

X X X X X

Giles and Wesley jogged towards Cordelia's apartment.

Wesley was carrying a crossbow, and trying not to smile triumphantly.

"Listen," Giles said as the two Ex-Watchers entered the building, "What do you  
hear?"

Confused, Wesley said, "Nothing."

"Yes," Giles said as he hurried up the stairs. "No sounds of violence, no  
screams of rage."

"Ah. Perhaps we're not too late."

"My thoughts precisely."

They ran down the hall and opened Cordelia's front door – just in time to hear  
Buffy say, angrily, "Nice try, Cordy. But Riley doesn't act like that. He leaves  
running my life to me." Tears were running down Cordelia's face, but Buffy  
apparently hadn't noticed them.

"So that's what this was about," Angel said. "You're not angry at me. You're  
angry at Riley."

"I will show you how not angry at you I am!" And then Buffy leapt across the  
room  
and punched Angel in the face.

Mildly, Wesley told Giles, "What was that about no sounds of violence or  
screams of rage?"

"Shut up," Giles said. Buffy's attack was almost void of technique; she was  
simply hitting Angel as hard as she could. The vampire was blocking nine out of ten  
attacks.

"In any event. Miss Summers!" Wesley raised his voice. "If you would please –"  
he raised the crossbow and pointed in Buffy's general direction. This had the exact  
consequence you'd imagine, which is to say, none.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Joyce ran across the room and slapped  
the weapon from Wesley's hands. "You are _not _going to shoot my daughter!"

Angel, momentarily distracted, failed to counter a blow to the face. Within  
seconds Buffy had knocked him down and had taken out a stake. Giles and Wesley  
moved forward, uncertain what to do, when a sudden piercing scream brought the  
action to halt.

Everyone looked and saw Cordelia holding the crossbow –

Pointed directly at Buffy's head.

"_Back away from him_," Cordelia said, crossbow shaking in her hand. "_Now_."

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Giles demanded.

"I think I'm ending this now," Cordelia snapped back. "Now get away from Angel,  
Buffy. I'm not kidding."

"Like hell you're going to kill my daughter," Joyce said, moving towards the  
younger woman – only to trip and fall when the throw rug she was standing on  
suddenly flew out from under her.

"Way to go, Dennis," Cordelia muttered to herself.

"You're not going to shoot me," Buffy said, though she did lower the stake.

"Oh really? Why not? Why the fuck not?" she screamed. "I mean, I've already  
killed one person this week, I may as well go for two."

"Cordelia, I really don't think –" Giles began, only to be silenced by a swift  
kick from Wesley.

"She knows what she's doing," Wesley told him. "I hope," he said to himself.

"I mean," Cordelia continued, oblivious. "That's the way these things go, right?  
It's just like I was telling your mom earlier, Buffy, kill one person and the  
next becomes easier. You should know though, right? You came here, you wanted to kill  
Faith, and here you are trying to kill Angel. So you should know exactly what  
I'm going through. This murderous rage. First you kill one person, then the next and  
pretty soon you end up just like Faith. Killing people just because you think  
they've pissed you off."

"Cordy –" Buffy started, hesitantly.

"Me," Cordy said, "I'm better than that. Because I know you're pissing me off."

With one word, Buffy threw the stake down to the floor and screamed. It was a  
scream of rage and anguish directly mostly at herself. "_Enough_," she yelled as  
she stood up. "Enough," she said again, more quietly, as she walked over towards  
Cordelia. "Enough," she repeated in a normal tone of voice as she took the  
crossbow from Cordelia's unresisting hands.

"So you get my point?" Cordelia asked as Buffy set the weapon aside.

"I gotta say, Cordy," Buffy said with bitter humor, "You're the best person I  
know at driving home a point with a sledgehammer."

"Nothing else was working," Cordelia responded just as bitterly.

"So . . ." Angel said tentatively as he stood up, "Does this mean you're not  
going to kill me?"

"Not right now, anyway," Buffy said, not really looking at him.

"How did you know?" Giles asked Wesley.

"I had no idea," Wesley responded. To Joyce's and Giles' dropped jaws he said.  
"I played a hunch."

"Cordy," Buffy said shakily – "Could I sit down on your couch? Because I'm not  
feeling like I can stand much longer –" she staggered and fell.

Of course Angel caught her.

The vampire guided her to the couch and then slowly backed away, not saying a  
word. Giles and Joyce then moved in. "Buffy?" Joyce asked. "What is it honey?  
What's wrong?"

"I thought he wasn't like that," Buffy said. "I thought he wasn't going to come  
on all macho and protective. I thought he was different."

"He told me he was doing it because he loved you," Angel said softly.

"That's what they all say," Buffy said, visibly drained. "And then – the way I  
came up here – like Faith –"

"We'll talk about it later," Giles said firmly, daring anyone to disagree with  
him.

Cordelia took the challenge. "Like hell we will. We'll talk about this now."  
Buffy looked up her blankly.

"I really don't think –" Giles began.

"You got that in one. Look. Buffy comes up here and nearly goes psycho, what,  
twice, in the span of one month? And instead of confronting the issue, which any  
good psychiatrist would tell you is the way you deal with these things, you want  
to handle it later. And then instead of talking to her about her bad attitude  
you and mommy over there will just let it slide. Poor Buffy, her boyfriend died,  
that's why she did it. Well, we all know how Buffy acted the _last_ time one of  
her boyfriends died. I gave her a pass then. But you know, if she's going to go  
looneytunes this often then maybe we need to go find ourselves someone with a  
bit more emotional stability to do this job for us. Like, I don't know, Faith."

"God, Cordy," Buffy said after a stunned silence, "You can be a stone bitch."

"Well, somebody has to tell you the truth, Buffy. And as usual it looks like I'm  
elected. You're going over the edge here. Again. And you know, one of these  
times we might not be here to pull you back. And then what happens? I mean, this is  
your life we're talking about here, and your sanity." No one else even tried to speak  
here. This was Cordelia's show.

"I know," Buffy said. "I know. I was just so angry – I was thinking that maybe  
Riley had been my one shot to get past – but anyway –"

"And you went ballistic. Look, I don't know what this is, or why you do it.  
Maybe the strain of being a Slayer makes you megatouchy mentally. I mean, sad to say,  
you're the sanest Slayer I've met."

"Not exactly a ringing endorsement," Buffy said wryly.

"Not intended to be. But you need to do something about it. I don't know what.  
Call a shrink. Vent more often. Find that inner moppet of yours and spank her  
until she screams. Whatever. But for god's sake find some way of dealing that  
doesn't involve going postal or running away from the world."

"What do the rest of you think about this?" Buffy said.

Giles answered. "Well, actually –"

"You agree?" Buffy asked.

"I wouldn't have phrased it quite that way, but yes," Giles said.

"I quite concur," Wesley added.

"And you?" Buffy demanded of Angel. "You apologized to me for what happened on  
the roof, and in the police station, with Faith."

"I had to," Angel said. "Not because I was wrong but because I wanted the lines  
of communication to stay open. I didn't want to lose . . . touch with you over  
something like that."

"Mom?"

"First time I've heard about any of this, honey. But you know, maybe Cordelia's  
right –"

"Damn right I am."

Buffy said quietly, "Then maybe this is my wake-up call. My one shot. But  
goddammit, why did Riley have to die?"

And then, in a voice tinged with more venom, more bitterness, than anyone had  
ever heard her use before, Cordelia said, "_My_ one shot."


End file.
